was this young thing as blooming as though she had spent the night
in her own bed! She hitched a shawl more closely over her shoulders,
and called aloud in a high imperious tone--

"Mason! Mason! You must really rouse yourself and attend to me. We
shall have to land in a few minutes. Get up at once and bring me my
things!"

The covering of another bunk stirred feebly, and two feet encased in
black merino stockings descended slowly to the floor. A moment later a
ghastly figure was tottering across the floor, lifting from a box a
beautifully waved white wig, and dropping it carefully over the head of
the aggrieved old lady of the straggly locks.

It was all that Claire could do to keep from exclaiming aloud, as it
burst upon her astonished senses that this poor, huddled creature was
none other than the _grande dame_ of the railway carriage, the haughtily
indifferent, cynically amused personage who had seemed so supremely
superior to the agitations of the common ruck! Strange what changes a
few hours' conflict with the forces of Nature could bring about!

Ill as the mistress was, the maid was even worse, and it was pitiful to
see the poor creature's efforts to obey the exigent demands of her
employer. In the end faintness overcame her, and if Claire had not
rushed to the rescue, she would have fallen on the floor.

"It's no use struggling against it! You must keep still until the boat
stops. You'll feel better at once when we land, and you get into the
air." Claire laid the poor soul in her bunk, and turned back to the old
lady who was momentarily growing younger and more formidable, as she
continued the stages of her toilette.

"Can I help you?" she asked smilingly, and the offer was accepted with
gracious composure.

"Please do. I should be grateful. Thank you. That hook fastens over
here, and the band crosses to this side. The brooch is in my bag--a
gold band with some diamonds--and the hat-pins, and a clean
handkerchief. Can you manage? ... The clasp slides back."

Claire opened the bag and gazed with admiration at a brown _moire_
antique lining, and fittings of tortoiseshell, bearing raised monograms
in gold. "I shall have one exactly to match, when I marry my duke!" was
the mental reflection, as she selected the articles mentioned and put
the final touches to the good lady's costume.

Later on there was Mason to be dressed; later on still, Claire found
herself carrying the precious dressin